


Scars

by Antosha



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: F/M, Het, Imriel/Alais implied, Mild S&M, Smut and Gen, Wet Dream, sex and politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antosha/pseuds/Antosha
Summary: Joscelin can see the scars that no one else can.
Relationships: Phèdre nó Delaunay/Joscelin Verreuil
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks and belated birthday wishes to thieving_gypsy

Joscelin can see the scars that no one else can. Phèdre has always healed clean—that’s what she says, and that is what he has seen. After a decade and a half as Terre d’Ange’s leading courtesan and only _anguisette_ , her skin is flawless. It glows in the moonlight like a still pool, and she takes his breath away as much now as she did when he first beheld her.  
  
But after all of these years, Joscelin knows where the wounds were: where the knives cut; where the whips flayed; where the iron and leather rubbed her bloody.  
  
These are the places he attends to first.  
  
She is spread before him, ropes of Chin silk knotted around her wrists and ankles, binding her tightly to the corners of their bed. A Serenissiman mask covering her eyes. Some nights, she is happy to do without such toys, but tonight, it is her needs that must be attended to, her scars that must be healed, and he binds her.  
  
No _flechettes_ for him, however, or flogs. He couldn't stand to use such instruments, and they both know that he can bring her the agony she desires with only his lips. His tongue. His teeth.  
  
  
***  
  
He unbinds her and she curls in upon herself, wrapping herself around his hip, where battle scars show themselves all to clearly, even after all of these years. _He_ does not heal clean--not at all. She weeps and he holds her, stroking her sable hair until the heaving stops.  
  
Some nights, once she has been given her penance of pleasure, she is ferocious, insatiable. Tonight, however, she is thoughtful, at what passes in Phèdre's tumultuous life for peace.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Looking at her, the angel-blessed miracle of her, he asks a question that has been haunting him for years. "Phèdre, love. What in Elua's name did Delauney intend for you? Surely he had more in mind for you than a distraction for Melisande and her lot. What was the grand plan?"  
  
She has been rewarding him with a languorous _languissement_ , her tongue tracing the length of his restored manhood vein by vein. Around licks, she smiles. "You are blessedly unsullied with politics, Messire Verreuil. It is one of many, many reasons that I love you so." It was still a wonder to him that she can converse while never ceasing to please his flesh so... thoroughly.  
  
Adding her fingers to the act, pausing in her speech, but not in her seduction, she gazed at him. Finally, she spoke. "It was always Ysandre, you see. Anafiel knew her parents only too well, knew their lineage and knew their proclivities. When she was still a girl, he decided to serve her by providing her with the kind of companion that he was not allowed to be to her father."  
  
Joscelin blinked, in part because the caress of her hand and speaking lips against his phallus demanded more than a little of his attention, and in part because he has never looked at it this way. "So... You and Alcuin?..."  
  
Grinning around the head of his cock, she nodded. "Yes. Knowing that she was a Courcel, he engaged the most lovely, sunny boy that she could find. And knowing that she was L'Envers, he procured--" For a moment, she swallowed Joscelin whole, and he groaned. Once her mouth had withdrawn to the tip again, she continued as if nothing had interrupted. "--me. He assumed that one or the other of us, treasures as he saw us, beautiful, talented and _very_ well-educated, that one of us, as I say, would catch her eye. Perhaps both. It never occurred to him that her heart would be drawn to a lame king in wode. I think that pleased him more than anything--the ridiculous fact that she had ignored the two most prized fruit of the Night Court for a crippled barbarian. It proved to him that she was her father's daughter and, more to the point, herself."  
  
A qualm rippled through Joscelin. "Could you have loved her, love?"  
  
"I do, love, you know that. She is a great woman, and has it in her to be as loving as you are and, Kushiel's scion that she is, as cruel as you cannot be." She swallowed him again, making him moan. "But she is happy and blessed in her choice, as am I in mine."  
  
And with that, they were both rendered speechless for a while.  
  
After she had brought him to bliss, she kissed her way up his body to his lips and they lay there for a while, trading the taste of heat.  
  
After a long time--as they were both beginning to drift into slumber--Joscelin muttered, "Well, he might get his wish, after a fashion. Imri has been having dreams."  
  
Phèdre stiffened against him. "Please tell me that it wasn't about me."  
  
"Ah, sweet, I am sure you hold a very special place in our young boy's mind, body and heart. But no--I was walking along toward the courtyard before dawn to do my exercises this morning, when I heard a noise from his room. When I looked in, there was a bitter scent in the air, and I could see that his sheets were..." He felt ridiculous feeling shy, and yet something about the incident made him so.  
  
He could feel her grin against his neck. "Elua's Blessing, we called that at Jasmine House."  
  
"Yes. The Casselines don't call it _anything_ ; they just made you wash your sheets before you could join with the other acolytes." Absurd. He is blushing. "In any case, I heard him whispering her name as he stirred in his sleep."  
  
"Whose? You don't mean Sidonie?"  
  
"No, Alais." He grinned as he felt her pull back. "I know, she's barely reached her womanhood, but the two of them have always been close, ever since we brought him to court. So Delauney may get his wish and see House Montrêve allied quite closely with House de la Courcel."  
  
"Goodness," Phèdre said breathily. "What an alliance that would be for _Ysandre_! Imriel as Prince Consort! It would keep him on her side and block any of Isabel's or Melisande's relatives from trying to turn him against her, to supplant her line." She shook her head and laughed. "Joscelin, my love, how can I make it up to you? You aren't such a political idiot after all."  
  
"Come back here," he grinned, "and I'll show you just how you can repent."  
  
And so she did. She repented at great length and leisure through a long, moonlit, unblemished night.


End file.
